Pulse
by ShadowsOnTheMoon
Summary: Allison and Scott have been through so much, but is their time together drawing to a close? They've been fighting werewolves and the Kanima, battling every evil that comes their way... but what if the one thing they can't overcome is something closer to their hearts? *on hiatus*
1. Prologue

**This is the prologue to a story I may or may not continue.**

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_In the instant it takes her to realise what's happened, she's already on the floor._

_She feels the pain from the impact in a distant sort of way, observing with mild curiosity that she's lost feeling in her arms and legs. She tries to lift her head, but the most she can manage is to blink – and even that takes a phenomenal effort. Her vision is beginning to blur, and through the haze she can just see someone bending over her._

_The features swim into fuzzy focus. Scott? She thinks the word, unable even to mouth it. He smiles, that private, tender smile he reserves only for her. Her eyes drift closed, and she knows she's going to die._

_And she's okay with that._

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**Feel free to read, review, and let me know if you'd like to see more.**


	2. Cold

**This is set after 2x09, so don't read if you haven't watched up to there. Also, thanks to the anonymous reviewer who gave me the motivation to keep working on this; I'm not sure how long it will be, but there should be a fair few chapters. Enjoy.**

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It's not the initial shock. It's not the way your legs buckle, the way your heart stops, the way the tears blind you and you collapse to the floor, feeling yourself collapsing, dissolving, breaking. It's not the questions that follow, the 'Are you okay?' and the 'Do you know what happened?'. It's not even the way you forget how to breathe, and when you remember you can't get a breath through the sobs.

That's not what really gets you.

It's the way that you wake up a month afterwards, and you don't remember. It's the way you sit there in the early morning sunshine, blinking away sleep, peaceful in your ignorance. It's the way the memory slowly starts to creep up on you, nagging at you, and then, piece by piece, you remember. It's the way you have to come to terms with it all over again, the way you have to remember the sight of your mother lying in a hospital bed, covered in blood and with lifeless eyes. It's the way you have to remind yourself, every morning, that things will never be the same.

That's what really gets you.

In the weeks following her mother's suicide, Allison had fallen apart. It had been days before she'd even been able to confide in Scott, and even now she wouldn't let him talk about it. She kept catching him giving her these looks, like he was on the verge of asking how she really was, and she would always intercept with a clumsy comment on the weather or what was on TV. She wasn't ready to talk about it all yet.

She'd taken a week off school. She'd wanted more, but her father had insisted that she return as soon as possible. It had been difficult, but she'd been able to get through it with the help of Lydia, Scott, and even Stiles. But at the end of each day she would end up where she is now: sprawled out on her bed, arms dangling over the side, staring at the ceiling.

In these moments she would let herself breathe. She would slow the crazy rush of thoughts and just focus on the cracks in the ceiling, the smudges on the wall, the patterned flowers on her cushions. She would try to convince herself that everything was okay, that she was going to be fine.

"Allison?"

She doesn't have to look up to know who it is.

"Come in, Scott," she says, and feels him sit down on the bed beside her.

"Are you okay? I didn't see you in Chemistry."

She sits up, shrugs. "I didn't go."

He meets her eyes, and although she wants to duck her head and look away, she forces herself to hold his gaze.

"Did you go to school at all today?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "I'll go tomorrow though."

He opens his mouth, and she knows what's coming. He'll ask her if everything's really okay, if he can help at all. It's not, and he can't.

"I'm fine." She lays back, stretching out on her bed. She gives him a sideways look, taking in the concern in his eyes. "But can you… can you just hold me?"

"Of course."

He lays down beside her, wraps his arm around her shoulder, and hugs her to him. She closes her eyes, remembering all the other times they've been like this. She remembers how it used to make her feel warm, safe, loved. Now she just feels… cold.

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	3. Flower

**Sorry it's taken so long for me to upload the next chapter. I've been getting distracted by lots of boring real-world stuff, but once I get into the swing of the story I'll be sure to update more frequently. So keep reading and reviewing and let me know what you think!**

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As she looks at herself in the mirror, Allison feels not the slightest recognition. This girl staring back at her, with the doe eyes and the dark hair and the make-up that doesn't quite hide how little sleep she's been getting – this girl is not her. She remembers what she used to look like, how her eyes were alive and there was always the hint of a smile on her face. She remembers, and yet she can't get back to that.

She catches sight of Lydia in the mirror and turns around. Her friend is holding up a sparkly top with way too many sequins on it, and the light dancing on it makes Lydia's face look almost otherworldly. She grins.

"Why don't you ever wear this? It's gorgeous."

Allison looks down at what she's wearing: black jeans, a leather jacket, black boots. She doesn't think she's worn a scrap of colour since the day her mother died.

She shrugs. "It doesn't really suit me," she says. "You can have it if you want."

"Oh, no," Lydia says, losing interest in it and throwing it on the bed. "It's not my style."

There's a pause, and Allison, sensing that she's about to get one of those questions she's so desperate to avoid, slings her bag over her shoulder and says, "Come on. We're going to be late for school."

She breathes a sigh of relief as Lydia heads for the door without further comment. But once they're both in the car, her friend twists in her seat so she's looking at her and says, "Allison, are you okay?"

Allison fiddles with her necklace, looks out the window. How is she supposed to answer something like that? Of course she's not okay. She doesn't think she'll ever be okay. But she knows that if she says that, people will just tell her the things they think she wants to hear: that she's just in shock, that the pain will fade, that time will heal these gaping wounds. None of that will make a difference to her. None of that will change the fact that her mother is dead and gone and it's all because of Derek.

The name makes her shudder. She didn't know him well, they'd barely even spoken, but she hadn't ever thought that she'd feel like this towards him. She hadn't thought it was possible to feel this way towards anyone, actually. Just hearing his name was enough to make her blood boil, to make her feel sick, to make her long to pick up one of her crossbows and hunt him down like the animal he is.

_No_, she reminds herself, _that's not the way. We go by the code._

"Allison?"

She realises that Lydia has been waiting for an answer. "I'm okay," she assures her, although she's not sure why anyone should believe that. "I mean, it's hard and all, but… I'm coping. You know?"

Lydia gives her one of those I'm-not-buying-it looks.

"Really," Allison persists. "I just… I'd love to get out of town for a bit. I think I just need a break."

"Great!" Lydia actually sounds excited. "How about we go out tonight? There's this great club not too far away, and they'll let us in even without IDs."

"Why?"

Lydia waggles her eyebrows suggestively, which would have gotten a laugh out of the old Allison.

"That sounds interesting," Allison says as they pull into the school parking lot. "Can I get back to you later?"

Lydia rolls her eyes. "Good old Allison," she teases, "always thinking things through."

The effect of those words is instantaneous. She doesn't want to be reliable, or responsible, or anything the old Allison would be. She just wants to escape. "You know what?" she says as they start to part ways in the hall. "It sounds like a great idea after all. I'm in."

Lydia flashes her a smile over her shoulder. "Excellent. I'll see you at lunch."

Allison smiles back, but it feels almost painful. As she turns around to go to her locker she almost crashes into someone. She sidesteps, already halfway through an apology before she looks up and realises who it is.

"Hey," Scott says gently, taking her hand in his.

She looks down at their entwined hands, then up at the security camera. She pulls her hand away and puts it in her pocket. "Scott," she says warningly, "we still need to be careful."

"I know," he replies, walking her to her locker, "I just missed you is all. I can't stand not being around you."

This is the part where she should say 'You're sweet' or 'I missed you too', but she can't bring herself to say the words. "I've been busy," she offers instead, shoving a textbook into her bag.

"Doing what?" he asks.

"Things," she says evasively, hoping he'll drop it. He does, but not without giving her a worried look. He knows she's holding something back, but she doesn't feel like sharing right now.

"I like your outfit," he says, catching her off-guard.

"What?"

He nods his head, gesturing to her ensemble. "This. I like it."

"Thanks," she says, confused.

"It's pretty dark, though," he goes on. "It would look better with a bit of color."

"Yeah, well, I don't really -" she starts.

He interrupts her by pulling a fresh white daisy from his pocket, and in one smooth move he sweeps her hair back from her face and tucks the flower behind her ear.

"There," he says, smiling. "Much better."

He kisses her cheek, letting his lips linger for just a moment, and then he disappears down the hall. Her hand floats up and touches the flower, and for the tiniest instant she can't stop a smile from creeping onto her face.

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End file.
